


Hogwarts Express

by LaDonnaErrante



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-25 00:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12519288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDonnaErrante/pseuds/LaDonnaErrante
Summary: R/S Games 2017 - Day 23 - Team RemusSeptember 1st, 1993: “‘It’s on his case,’ she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head, where there was a small battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted strong. The nameProfessor R. J. Lupinwas stamped across one corner in peeling letters.”-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, page 74





	Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> **Team:** Remus  
>  **Title:** Hogwarts Express  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Warnings:** mentions of violence  
>  **Genres:** Angst  
>  **Word Count:** 2600  
>  **Summary:** September 1st, 1993: “‘It’s on his case,’ she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head, where there was a small battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted strong. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.” - _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ , page 74  
>  **Notes:** A HUGE thank you to the mods for all their hard work to make one last R/S games possible. And especially for their incredible generosity and flexibility towards me, in particular this year. And also many thanks to my beta N, who did some amazing last minute cheerleading and editing.  
>  **Prompt:** #16 - "Lying in bed with the radio on  
>  Moonlight falls like rain  
> Soft summer nights spent thinking of you  
> When will I see you again
> 
> Soft and low the music moans  
> I can't stop thinking about you  
> Thinking about you"  
> \- from the song "Nights Are Forever Without You" by England Dan & John Ford Coley

Remus Lupin had barely slept all summer. Since the day the Daily Prophet’s headline had read, “Sirius Black Escapes from Azkaban. Ministry Puzzled.” He had been caught in a half wakeful state, unable to sleep and yet unable to escape the space between the flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder, where memory and dream collide.

When he boarded the Hogwarts Express on September First, fraying trunks in hand, it felt like walking into a dream. As a little boy, he never thought he’d get to see the train, never mind ride on it. He can almost feel the butterflies in his stomach as real as that first day, when his mother hugged him and whispered a reminder to hold onto his secret as tightly as he could. Then there had been James running up to him, gap toothed and wild haired, introducing himself and inviting him to share a compartment. Despite the excitement, he had fallen asleep promptly. By the time he awoke, somewhere near Manchester, James was talking animatedly about the Holyhead Harpies to a sulky boy with long black hair. Remus had yawned and remarked sleepily, “I prefer the Kestrals.” At this, sulking Sirius Black had perked up. As Remus found an empty compartment near the back of the train, one that the Marauders had probably shared at some point, the chatter of the students around him felt warm and familiar. And then, as he had every year on his way to Hogwarts, Remus fell asleep on the train.

By the time he saw the newspaper headline, he was already stuck in the mist between a storm he thought had cleared long ago and new clouds brewing on the horizon. It wasn’t three hours between when the Dementors reported a missing prisoner to DMLE and the first cracks of Apparition jolted Remus from his sleep and adrenaline frizzled through his veins, his heart pounding. He reached without thinking for his wand on the bedside table, an instinct born of war. Wand in hand, he sat up, breathing slowly, trying to calm the frantic pounding in his chest, enough that he could think. It felt like an age before his heart slowed enough that he realized there were no Death Eaters coming for him, that James and Peter were long dead and Sirius imprisoned. Remus tried to do the mental calculus—wards stripped, an intruder had Apparated directly into his home, but no further noise was forthcoming. Remus took in another deep breath through his nose; it was clearly a professional job, and since there was nothing left to steal, it must be law enforcement. Anti-werewolf propaganda was on the rise again, and there was some talk of reinstating the national werewolf registry, but Lupin hadn’t expected things to escalate quite so quickly. He relaxed his grip on his wand and blew out a breath. Trying to run outright from a squad of Aurors sent to pick up werewolves seemed unlikely to work. It was then that he heard the whispered spell, _Hominum Revelio_  and seconds later, his bedroom door was knocked flat. He dropped his wands and placed his hands in the air.

Three Aurors stood in the doorway, the middle with her wand leveled at Remus’ chest and the other two scanning the room with their eyes. “Where is he?” The middle witch spoke and a moment of confusion passed over Remus, it was all he could do not to ask her what she was talking about.

She spoke again. “Sirius Black. Where is he?”

He had to stifle a half-laugh of relief, as he felt his muscles release their frozen grip; they weren’t coming for him. “If he’s not in Azkaban, then I have no idea.”

The Auror rolled her eyes, and barked an order, “Up out of bed and into the living room. Leave your wand and keep your hands where I can see them.” Remus obeyed carefully, walking slowly with the Auror as she kept her wand trained on him carefully. She pointed him to a particularly dilapidated arm chair and motioned for him to sit, binding him with an _incarcerous_ spell. Remus felt the ropes tighten across his shoulders, and did his best not squirm beneath them. The Aurors proceeded to waste no time overturning every cushion, chair and book looking for Sirius. Even though their initial charms had revealed no other humans in the house. Remus didn’t blame them, but it was gone three and he was tired. The adrenaline from being awoken out of sleep had worn off and knowing they were unlikely to find Sirius hiding in his tea kettle, he resigned himself to having his possessions tossed around and shattered carelessly. As he looked on, he drifted back to the row when Sirius had broken his wooden model of the solar system beyond repair.

It had been the first week that Remus had been a prefect. He’d caught Sirius charming dungbombs to fly into the girl's’ toilet and given Sirius a detention. Sirius had used the entire evening of scrubbing bedpans to work himself into a rage at Remus. When he returned to the common room to find Remus sitting and mapping an astronomy chart as if nothing had happened, he stood directly in front of Remus, his tall figure casting a shadow over Remus’ bent head. Remus looked up, saw the flash of fire in Sirius eyes, just before he picked up the antique model of the solar system and dropped it onto the stone floor. Sirius stomped on it once, and mumbled something about marauder loyalty and how the worst thing you could do was betray your friends.

Remus had bitten back his anger at the smashed astronomy set--it had a been a gift from his grandad and one of the only nice things Remus owned. Sirius had half-apologized, and bought him a new one. It seemed good enough at the time, if he wanted to keep his best friend, his best chance at love. Again and again, he’d placated the bile rising in his throat. And here he was again, his scant possessions ruined, tied to a chair in his own living room. All because he had let too many of Sirius’ half-hearted apologies slide by.

The anger that he’d thought he’d buried long ago blazed up in him again. By the time the Aurors had decided that Sirius Black wasn’t hiding in the kitchen trash or in the cracks in the ceiling, the fire was burning in his chest. The Aurors untied him, and walked out. They left him with instructions to let them know if he heard from Black, a warning not to skip town and an insincere word of thanks. Remus snorted at that. He stood up slowly and found his hands were hands were shaking; he picked up the glass of water the senior Aurora had left and tried to calm himself as he walked with it to the sink. But Sirius’ face, alight with the cruel laughter at blowing up an entire street rose in his mind, taunting him and he felt something in him shatter. He threw the glass against the wall, listening to the tinkling sound it made before he sank to the floor, and buried his head in his hands.

He was still sitting with his back against the wall, replaying every wrong turn he’d ever taken with Sirius again in his head, chastising himself for just not caring enough to stand up to Sirius’ bullying behavior when he’d had the chance, when the floo roared.

“He’s not here. How many times do I have to tell you bastards?”

I’m not looking for Sirius Black.” Dumbledore’s low voice rumbled.

Remus looked up to see the long purple robes hanging in front of his face and still further up to meet Albus’ shining blue eyes, full of expectation. Dumbledore extended a hand.

Remus didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to make nice with Albus, wanted to stay curled in on himself. But without his conscious mind’s permission his hand rose to meet Dumbledore’s. And Dumbledore pulled him to his feet and guided him over to the lumpy settee.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore set the tea kettle to boil in the kitchen and produced a small packet of cockroach clusters from somewhere inside his purple robes. Remus watched warily, aware that he wanted nothing more than to slouch in his chair and curl in on himself as if he were a schoolboy called into the headmaster’s office. Instead, he sat erect and waited to see what Dumbledore would do once the tea was poured and candy proffered. Dumbledore merely cleared his throat.

“I already told them I don’t know anything.”

“And I already told you, I’m not looking for Mr. Black. You are no longer school children and I do not expect you to keep track of his whereabouts. But you are correct in guessing that my visit is related to Mr. Black’s escape from Azkaban.” He paused, watching Remus’ reaction with a patient air.

Remus felt uneasy, it was only logical to think Sirius might have the gall to come here. And from there it was quite a short leap to the possibility that Remus would have agreed to hide him. Wouldn’t he have? “Why come to me?”

Dumbledore seemed unperturbed. “The ministry seems to think, and on this point, I do agree, that Mr. Black escaped with the intent of taking his revenge on Harry Potter.”

Remus looked down, studied the smudges on his tea cup and the long brown hairs on the back of his hand. He hadn’t thought of Harry often over the years. Anytime he’d tried to imagine where the boy might be now, the shame would shudder through his body and he would curl in on himself and close his eyes. He always hoped he would open them to a world where he hadn’t traded Harry’s parents for his own short-lived happiness. He never did. How old would Harry be now? He tried to do the math in his head...Merlin, the last time he had seen Harry… It had been an unusually sunny summer day in Godric’s Hollow, they had crowded around the picnic table under the apple tree in the Potter’s garden to watch Harry smash his fists into a bit of cake and smear it all over his face. He and Lily had laughed about how Harry had inherited James’ horrid table manners. Golden afternoon light poured through the gaps between the leaves, leaving everything dappled and beautiful, as he handed over the little broom, “From the two of us. Sorry Lils, but Padfoot insisted.” Remembering that half-joking apology, Remus blanched. He had thought only of the havoc an airborne toddler would wreak.

“You know Sirius Black better than anyone.” Dumbledore’s voice intruded on Remus’ thoughts, shaking him out of his reverie. Remus felt his stomach sink. It was true. He could have seen what Sirius would choose to become, the day he woke nauseated and sore after trying to eat Snape during the full moon. He just hadn’t wanted to. Dumbledore was still speaking, Remus pulled through the layers of guilt, hoping the headmaster’s voice would anchor him.

“…and so that’s why I think it would be best if you took the position teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I don’t need to know right now, but as soon as possible would be helpful, in the case that I need to make other arrangements.”

“I’ll do it.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew he was going to speak. It would be penance for letting Harry down, he told himself. And yet, he could feel his own longing to see Sirius again sinking like a stone in his gut.

The knot that formed in the pit of his stomach that morning just wouldn’t go away. Every night between then and now, he had tried to sleep. And every night he had woken, often to the pitter patter of a soft summer rainstorm, thinking about Sirius. Sometimes, he awoke enraged, the image of Sirius’ face twisted and worn, like his picture in the papers. His expression was cruel and menacing, and Remus would feel his face heat with anger and the embarrassment of ever having loved the man. Other times, the dreams were almost comforting--just Sirius’ voice, soft and low, the ghost of his nose rubbing at the stubble on Remus’ cheek. Or Sirius’ lily-white hands gently bandaging his wounds after the full moon. He tried to lean into the caresses, remember the smell of Sirius’ soap, but the images were slippery. As he wound his way around the path would inevitably lead to the memory of nights alone in their shared flat, a cold empty space in the bed next to Remus while Sirius was off plotting his betrayal. On some nights, Remus would imagine the duel of wands when they would meet again whether in the forbidden forest, or the Gryffindor common room, flashes of green and red that held his revenge for all the pain Sirius had caused him. He would play the scene over and over again in his mind, crowing over a defeated Sirius, Sirius who hadn’t thought he could stand up for himself, Sirius who would expect a quiescent Remus. He would give him what-for. Sometimes he even saw himself throw a killing curse. But he could never bring himself to imagine the green light finding its mark. And some nights, when he imagined meeting Sirius again, they would run away together, gone from Hogwarts and the ministry and the remnants of the Order. Those nights were the worst, he would feel his stomach in his throat, the relief that it had been a dream mingled with the sweaty guilt of knowing that if Sirius offered to bear him away, he’d probably say yes.

Lupin was dimly aware of the voices of students as he drifted in and out of sleep on the Hogwarts Express. James was speaking in measured tones, while Peter and Lily squabbled about a cat and a rat. He felt the train come to a stop, but surely, if they had reached Hogsmeade someone would wake him—even if the other Marauders thought it was funny to let him miss the feast, Lily would surely take pity on him. But then it began to get chilly, and there was a crash and several loud bumps. He was about to chalk it up to the Marauders, but then he heard their names: Ginny, Hermione, Ron. Not the Marauders. Not Lily. He cracked one eye open, it was dark, there were several yelps of pain. Right. He was Professor Lupin. He bolted up. “Quiet.” A hush fell over the compartment

He rose to open the compartment door, but before he could, it slid open, a dementor standing before him, dark robes billowing in the corridor.

“None of us is hiding Sirius Black in his robes.” The dementor stayed put.

He raised his wand and closed his eyes. He fought through the images in his brain of human corpses mutilated by his werewolf form, and the image of Sirius cackling in a bombed-out alleyway, the smoldering ruins of Godric’s hollow. He pushed them aside and concentrated instead on the last time he’d been on the Hogwart’s Express: leaning his head against the window in the soft autumn light, the feeling of Sirius’ fingers playing with his own light brown hair, Lily with her legs in James’ lap opposite them, Peter reading in the corner.

“ _Expecto Patronum_.”


End file.
